"Of course." Blair hands the flask to Quatt. "Some people call liquor fire that ignites passion, desire, or destruction. Some people find courage to overcome fear in it. Some people say it can loosen your tongue and reveal your true thoughts. And some people… see it as a great escape from reality, to forget your troubles.” He smiles, curious what the gentle tortle will think of the spirit.
OOC would you like to speak to the animals Eron? Also they're technically NPCs so I'd be the one to speak for them. I'd say Apple Jack too would fall under my management if you wanted a conversation. Apple Jack is totally up to you tho!
Eron would very much like to. “Hello you strong wonderful horses, and of course you Apple-Jack. Babe, may I call you that? You’ve had an adventure. Are you okay? Can you tell me about your first handlers are they okay?”
Quatt takes the offered flask and awkwardly takes a swig of it, swirls it slightly in his mouth and then swallows with a rather large gulp. He then does not move, at all, he just stands there staring forward for a good ten seconds before his mouth slowly starts to open, very slowly. As this happens a sound can be barely heard in his throat but it starts to build in volume as his mouth opens more. Finally he blinks, looks at Blair, closes his mouth, stops making the sound and hands the flask back, "I do not like this." He then walks off to create a spot for himself for the night.
Silf giggles at Nobriki’s performance. Well, he’s very entertaining, ha ha!The fairy decides not to partake of Blair’s offering. She tries not to recall the last time she tried to drink something other than Faerie Wine, having woken up surrounded by dozens of flumphs. She agrees to take the second watch with Blair, toodling on her fairy slide whistle after the big performance from the paladin and the bard.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Walks in [insert absurd situation].
Honorary Leader in the Pixie Peewee Powderpuff Pals!
As they are taking watch at night, Blair notices Silf whistling a little tune beside him. He plucks a blade of grass from the ground and says to Silf, “Have you ever tried this?” Smiling, he puts the thin grass next to his lips, blowing softly into the blade of grass, producing a soft, whistling sound.
"What do you think of Eron, Silf?" The bard asks softly. He turns to make sure no one’s listening, then continues, a small grin on his lips, "I mean, he’s kind of cute, don't you think?"
OOC Ox, warhorse, and mule have intelligence of 2. I would say they are not magical either so would not understand truly the concepts your PC is asking. They undestand trained tasks and nothing really broader than that. Possibly wanting and sharing affection. I don't want to disappoint you so I'll keep it brief.
The ox Eron has chosen to call Babe seems calmer now than immediately after the fight. They do no really understand the concept of 'previous handlers' Eron just gets a general sense of calm. Navar is also calm but often seems expectant of Beryl and watches her move about the camp. Apple Jack seems slightly frazzled by the scrimish but Eron is able to calm him down easily too. Eron gleans little from Babe.
Eron and Quatt roll for perception on first watch.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Quatt does not do much while on watch, he pulls out his shield and tends to the mushrooms on it. He seems content to watch in silence unless Eron starts up a conversation.
As they are taking watch at night, Blair notices Silf whistling a little tune beside him. He plucks a blade of grass from the ground and says to Silf, “Have you ever tried this?” Smiling, he puts the thin grass next to his lips, blowing softly into the blade of grass, producing a soft, whistling sound.
"What do you think of Eron, Silf?" The bard asks softly. He turns to make sure no one’s listening, then continues, a small grin on his lips, "I mean, he’s kind of cute, don't you think?"
Silf makes a sharp toot on the slide whistle, clearly amazed by the blade-of-glass-whistle. "That's amazing! I've ever seen such a thing." She plucks a blade herself and tries to get it to whistle, but just ends up making fart noises. She tries six more blades of grass, clearly figuring she's not found the right one yet, but not making much progress. As she plucks the seventh blade, she whispers something inaudible and twitches her fingers a bit. Silf's eyes narrow the tiniest hair, still fixed on the hexblood, and the corners of her lips twitch as she blows gently on the blade of grass. Her attempt to covertly cast druidcraft causes the blade of grass to begin quacking like a duck. She bursts in to laughter and tosses the grass aside.
"He's pretty cute, or maybe cutely pretty, especially for tallfolk. He's very nice though, and he blushes A LOT!" The little fairy watches the animals for a moment, uncharacteristically lost in thought. She plops down and and leans back on her hands, turning her gaze back to Blair. "You're a very good flautist, Blair. One of the very best I've ever heard, even among the fairy colonies. Where did you learn to play?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Walks in [insert absurd situation].
Honorary Leader in the Pixie Peewee Powderpuff Pals!
Blair laughs along with Silf at her attempt to whistle but made quaking sounds instead. A lock of blond hair falls down beside his face, and he smiles. “He does blush a lot. Particularly when he talks to you.”
He pulls out his flute from the folds of his robe, his fingers running across the smooth lacquered surface. “From a very good friend.” He says softly. On nights like this, he remembers Sa-ar teaching him the flute under the moon, placing his fingers on the right keys. He looks up to see the moon again, the silver plate hanging in the night sky. A small mischievous smile visits Blair’s lips as he turns to Silf. “Well, he taught me a lot more than flute. And you’re changing the subject.”
A momentary look of confusion appears on Silf’s face, as if she’s trying to do difficult sums in her head. She looks at Blair then at Eron, then back at Blair. With one forceful beat of her wings, she creates enough of a gust to lift herself to her feet. She looks at Blair, her voice now low and whispery. “Why do you think he’s blushing around me? What does that mean? I thought he was blushing around you!”
She plops back down on her rear end and stares at the flute while Blair manipulates it. As he moves his hands, the fairy unthinkingly taps her fingers on the slide whistle, before snapping it back into its spot on her belt. Suddenly getting wide eyes, she points a finger in the air as if two answer a question. Slowly, very slowly she lowers the finger and puts it against her chin as if lost in thought. Puffing up her cheek, she gives a long, drawn-out sigh. “I was going to make a joke about how you changed the subject because you made it the object, but it didn’t make any sense. I’m glad you learned the flute though!”
Silf watches Eron for a bit, then starts using her druidcraft to make the grass grow in the bald patches of the ground.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Blair looks at Silf with a bit of confusion before chuckling softly. He decides not push it. Besides, he doesn't really know what Silf thinks about affection. The fairy is like a child in that regard, though he knows she's not really a child. "Maybe he's not blushing around anyone in particular, Silf. Maybe he's just a bit nervous, being around a beautiful fairy like you." He smiles at her. The moonlight shines down on them, the air quiet and serene as they sit on the grass. He continues to play a few notes, lost in thoughts, before noticing Silf's druidcraft at work. They sit together, watching the grass grow.
Eron and Quatt's watch passes without incident. Erin falls asleep while Quatt manages to spot a group of raccoons passing through. They pause curiously looking over the party but when they spot the enormous tortle they scurry on. Quatt then feels a slight breeze before a group of luna moths flutter around him dancing in the light of the crescent moon!
On Silf and Blair watch the two friends forge an even stronger bond than before. Their watch passes without incident as well but from within the tent Beryl and Caladon retired to near the end of their watch they hear raised voices. Beryl is trying to calm Cal who sounds upset.
"I know...I know I should have told you immediately but the man on the road..." Beryl pauses to sigh loudly, "you're not use to this," she adds her tone knowing as Cal pushes open the flap on the tent forcefully and strides out catching glances from Blair and Silf!
"Any trouble, " Cal asks the pair as he paces beside the fire awaiting their reply.
His expression is uncharacteristically gruff but his tone is soft like usual.
Blair turns to see Cal storming out of the tent, a concerned line etched between his brows. He exchanged a look with Silf, then answers, “Quiet night. No trouble. Pelor is the god of the sun, but he blesses the night too.”
The bard watches Cal pace around the fire, his small form casting long, distorted shadows against the trees that surround them. The fire's warm glow illuminates the cleric’s gruff expression. “Beryl really cares about you, Cal. She’s got your back, and so do we.” Blair says, feeling like he needs to say something, “We’re all in this together, and we’ll get to the bottom of this.”
Beryl then comes from the tent behind Cal. She's tugging at the straps on her breastplate and muttering to herself.
"I wanted to tell you but it's been years since you were out adventuring," Beryl begins coming to Cal's side and for the first time in the party's presence kneels before the halfling her posture prostrated in asking forgiveness.
"I...I am not mad at you," Cal says suddenly realizes his wrong as Blair speaks and Beryl appears her tall, lighte muscular frame bent in humility. "Those one's that got away....thieving is wrong but murder...murder is abhorrent, " he manages to utter through clenched teeth. "I want...I want to see Allaire armor, " he then asks pushing up the sleeves of his tunic.
Cal isn't in his vestments anymore but a plain linen tunic and breeches. His furry halfing feet out of boots, he walks barefoot around the camp.
"It's... here," Beryl says getting the armor from the thieves wagon and Cal immediately begins to investigate! "Get some rest, " Beryl says to Blair giving him a soft nudge on the shoulder. "I appreciate your aid in all of this," she adds her expression weary, she has obviously not slept.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Sometimes a Nat 1 tells a better story than a Nat 20 ever could.
"Of course, Beryl. We're glad we could help." Blair smiles as Cal and Beryl makes up, he leans to whisper in Silf's ear. "Let's give them some space." With that, he goes back to his tent and rest for the night.
The third watch ends without problem. The party wakes to Cal cleaning a set of plate armor and Beryl cooking a hearty porridge. The weather is crisp and cold with big gray clouds above the party threatening snow! Beryl's porridge fills up and warms the party as the day ahead stretches beyond the road to Turst Fields!
"Everyone rested well I trust," Beryl asks as the party breaks camp and begins to get back on the road.
The party has stowed the other wagon and ox. Beryl sent a message to a fellow member of the End who is on their way to pick it up and take it back to Westruun. The party will now travel on as before without the loot of the bandits save the suit of armor that Beryl helps Cal to pack up and place in the wagon with the party. Cal seems somber today. He's not trying to make conversation and is openly affectionate to Beryl unlike before when the cleric was more reserved.
Silf stretches her arms and gives a tiny yawn. As she sits up and beats her wings to get to her feet, the fairy checks her things over and begins to pace around the camp. “Slept like a baby, thanks!”
“Poor Cal,” she mutters to herself. She continues pacing around the camp while rubbing her eyes, eventually running into Quatt and bouncing back on her rear. “Oh! Excuse me! Sorry, I’m a little clumsy in the morning. How did you sleep, Quatt? Do you live in your shell when you sleep?”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Walks in [insert absurd situation].
Honorary Leader in the Pixie Peewee Powderpuff Pals!
Eron wakes up feeling stiff and a little anxious from his dreams, but after a bowl of porridge and seeing everyone busily about the business of breaking camp and readying to travel he relaxes. “Thank you!” He nods to Cal & Beryl as he finishes his breakfast.
Eron dons his armor, give feed to the animals. At a certain point he draws out his totem and says a little prayer for speed strength and wariness.
As he notices the plate armor so carefully cleaned and reverently loaded into the wagon he tries to recall what he knows about Pelor. He believes he is the God of the sun, but who or what would oppose such a faith...
OOC Eron can make a religion or history check to determine his knowledge of Pelor!
The party travels with haste. An hour passes as they move down the Parchwood Way towards Turst Fields again with an eerie lack of travelers headed southwest towards Westruun! The grasslands stretch far as the eyes can see in either direction allowing a clear view to to horizon! The party then reaches the Parchwood Way/Black Valley triangle, a cross roads, where both roads meet. There they find a shady looking tavern called the Black Flagon and two other shops, a dry goods store and a livery with a sign boasting the fastest delivery of packages north of Emon in a crudely scrawled sign! This area too seems empty but for a flicker of candle light in the front windows of the Black Flagon!
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Sometimes a Nat 1 tells a better story than a Nat 20 ever could.
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"Of course." Blair hands the flask to Quatt. "Some people call liquor fire that ignites passion, desire, or destruction. Some people find courage to overcome fear in it. Some people say it can loosen your tongue and reveal your true thoughts. And some people… see it as a great escape from reality, to forget your troubles.” He smiles, curious what the gentle tortle will think of the spirit.
Eron would very much like to.
“Hello you strong wonderful horses, and of course you Apple-Jack. Babe, may I call you that? You’ve had an adventure. Are you okay? Can you tell me about your first handlers are they okay?”
Eron will take first watch.
When he detected portals was there any response?
Quatt takes the offered flask and awkwardly takes a swig of it, swirls it slightly in his mouth and then swallows with a rather large gulp. He then does not move, at all, he just stands there staring forward for a good ten seconds before his mouth slowly starts to open, very slowly. As this happens a sound can be barely heard in his throat but it starts to build in volume as his mouth opens more. Finally he blinks, looks at Blair, closes his mouth, stops making the sound and hands the flask back, "I do not like this." He then walks off to create a spot for himself for the night.
Silf giggles at Nobriki’s performance. Well, he’s very entertaining, ha ha! The fairy decides not to partake of Blair’s offering. She tries not to recall the last time she tried to drink something other than Faerie Wine, having woken up surrounded by dozens of flumphs. She agrees to take the second watch with Blair, toodling on her fairy slide whistle after the big performance from the paladin and the bard.
Walks in [insert absurd situation].
Honorary Leader in the Pixie Peewee Powderpuff Pals!
As they are taking watch at night, Blair notices Silf whistling a little tune beside him. He plucks a blade of grass from the ground and says to Silf, “Have you ever tried this?” Smiling, he puts the thin grass next to his lips, blowing softly into the blade of grass, producing a soft, whistling sound.
"What do you think of Eron, Silf?" The bard asks softly. He turns to make sure no one’s listening, then continues, a small grin on his lips, "I mean, he’s kind of cute, don't you think?"
OOC Ox, warhorse, and mule have intelligence of 2. I would say they are not magical either so would not understand truly the concepts your PC is asking. They undestand trained tasks and nothing really broader than that. Possibly wanting and sharing affection. I don't want to disappoint you so I'll keep it brief.
The ox Eron has chosen to call Babe seems calmer now than immediately after the fight. They do no really understand the concept of 'previous handlers' Eron just gets a general sense of calm. Navar is also calm but often seems expectant of Beryl and watches her move about the camp. Apple Jack seems slightly frazzled by the scrimish but Eron is able to calm him down easily too. Eron gleans little from Babe.
Eron and Quatt roll for perception on first watch.
OOC assuming everyone's going to rest?
Sometimes a Nat 1 tells a better story than a Nat 20 ever could.
Quatt does not do much while on watch, he pulls out his shield and tends to the mushrooms on it. He seems content to watch in silence unless Eron starts up a conversation.
Perception: 18
Eron actively patrols the area to the extent of the fire light, perception. 5
Silf makes a sharp toot on the slide whistle, clearly amazed by the blade-of-glass-whistle. "That's amazing! I've ever seen such a thing." She plucks a blade herself and tries to get it to whistle, but just ends up making fart noises. She tries six more blades of grass, clearly figuring she's not found the right one yet, but not making much progress. As she plucks the seventh blade, she whispers something inaudible and twitches her fingers a bit. Silf's eyes narrow the tiniest hair, still fixed on the hexblood, and the corners of her lips twitch as she blows gently on the blade of grass. Her attempt to covertly cast druidcraft causes the blade of grass to begin quacking like a duck. She bursts in to laughter and tosses the grass aside.
"He's pretty cute, or maybe cutely pretty, especially for tallfolk. He's very nice though, and he blushes A LOT!" The little fairy watches the animals for a moment, uncharacteristically lost in thought. She plops down and and leans back on her hands, turning her gaze back to Blair. "You're a very good flautist, Blair. One of the very best I've ever heard, even among the fairy colonies. Where did you learn to play?"
Walks in [insert absurd situation].
Honorary Leader in the Pixie Peewee Powderpuff Pals!
Blair laughs along with Silf at her attempt to whistle but made quaking sounds instead. A lock of blond hair falls down beside his face, and he smiles. “He does blush a lot. Particularly when he talks to you.”
He pulls out his flute from the folds of his robe, his fingers running across the smooth lacquered surface. “From a very good friend.” He says softly. On nights like this, he remembers Sa-ar teaching him the flute under the moon, placing his fingers on the right keys. He looks up to see the moon again, the silver plate hanging in the night sky. A small mischievous smile visits Blair’s lips as he turns to Silf. “Well, he taught me a lot more than flute. And you’re changing the subject.”
A momentary look of confusion appears on Silf’s face, as if she’s trying to do difficult sums in her head. She looks at Blair then at Eron, then back at Blair. With one forceful beat of her wings, she creates enough of a gust to lift herself to her feet. She looks at Blair, her voice now low and whispery. “Why do you think he’s blushing around me? What does that mean? I thought he was blushing around you!”
She plops back down on her rear end and stares at the flute while Blair manipulates it. As he moves his hands, the fairy unthinkingly taps her fingers on the slide whistle, before snapping it back into its spot on her belt. Suddenly getting wide eyes, she points a finger in the air as if two answer a question. Slowly, very slowly she lowers the finger and puts it against her chin as if lost in thought. Puffing up her cheek, she gives a long, drawn-out sigh. “I was going to make a joke about how you changed the subject because you made it the object, but it didn’t make any sense. I’m glad you learned the flute though!”
Silf watches Eron for a bit, then starts using her druidcraft to make the grass grow in the bald patches of the ground.
(Perception if you need it, Amazon!) 11
Edit: Disadvantage for perception: 12
Walks in [insert absurd situation].
Honorary Leader in the Pixie Peewee Powderpuff Pals!
Blair looks at Silf with a bit of confusion before chuckling softly. He decides not push it. Besides, he doesn't really know what Silf thinks about affection. The fairy is like a child in that regard, though he knows she's not really a child. "Maybe he's not blushing around anyone in particular, Silf. Maybe he's just a bit nervous, being around a beautiful fairy like you." He smiles at her. The moonlight shines down on them, the air quiet and serene as they sit on the grass. He continues to play a few notes, lost in thoughts, before noticing Silf's druidcraft at work. They sit together, watching the grass grow.
Perception: 10
Eron and Quatt's watch passes without incident. Erin falls asleep while Quatt manages to spot a group of raccoons passing through. They pause curiously looking over the party but when they spot the enormous tortle they scurry on. Quatt then feels a slight breeze before a group of luna moths flutter around him dancing in the light of the crescent moon!
On Silf and Blair watch the two friends forge an even stronger bond than before. Their watch passes without incident as well but from within the tent Beryl and Caladon retired to near the end of their watch they hear raised voices. Beryl is trying to calm Cal who sounds upset.
"I know...I know I should have told you immediately but the man on the road..." Beryl pauses to sigh loudly, "you're not use to this," she adds her tone knowing as Cal pushes open the flap on the tent forcefully and strides out catching glances from Blair and Silf!
"Any trouble, " Cal asks the pair as he paces beside the fire awaiting their reply.
His expression is uncharacteristically gruff but his tone is soft like usual.
Sometimes a Nat 1 tells a better story than a Nat 20 ever could.
Blair turns to see Cal storming out of the tent, a concerned line etched between his brows. He exchanged a look with Silf, then answers, “Quiet night. No trouble. Pelor is the god of the sun, but he blesses the night too.”
The bard watches Cal pace around the fire, his small form casting long, distorted shadows against the trees that surround them. The fire's warm glow illuminates the cleric’s gruff expression. “Beryl really cares about you, Cal. She’s got your back, and so do we.” Blair says, feeling like he needs to say something, “We’re all in this together, and we’ll get to the bottom of this.”
Beryl then comes from the tent behind Cal. She's tugging at the straps on her breastplate and muttering to herself.
"I wanted to tell you but it's been years since you were out adventuring," Beryl begins coming to Cal's side and for the first time in the party's presence kneels before the halfling her posture prostrated in asking forgiveness.
"I...I am not mad at you," Cal says suddenly realizes his wrong as Blair speaks and Beryl appears her tall, lighte muscular frame bent in humility. "Those one's that got away....thieving is wrong but murder...murder is abhorrent, " he manages to utter through clenched teeth. "I want...I want to see Allaire armor, " he then asks pushing up the sleeves of his tunic.
Cal isn't in his vestments anymore but a plain linen tunic and breeches. His furry halfing feet out of boots, he walks barefoot around the camp.
"It's... here," Beryl says getting the armor from the thieves wagon and Cal immediately begins to investigate! "Get some rest, " Beryl says to Blair giving him a soft nudge on the shoulder. "I appreciate your aid in all of this," she adds her expression weary, she has obviously not slept.
Sometimes a Nat 1 tells a better story than a Nat 20 ever could.
"Of course, Beryl. We're glad we could help." Blair smiles as Cal and Beryl makes up, he leans to whisper in Silf's ear. "Let's give them some space." With that, he goes back to his tent and rest for the night.
The third watch ends without problem. The party wakes to Cal cleaning a set of plate armor and Beryl cooking a hearty porridge. The weather is crisp and cold with big gray clouds above the party threatening snow! Beryl's porridge fills up and warms the party as the day ahead stretches beyond the road to Turst Fields!
"Everyone rested well I trust," Beryl asks as the party breaks camp and begins to get back on the road.
The party has stowed the other wagon and ox. Beryl sent a message to a fellow member of the End who is on their way to pick it up and take it back to Westruun. The party will now travel on as before without the loot of the bandits save the suit of armor that Beryl helps Cal to pack up and place in the wagon with the party. Cal seems somber today. He's not trying to make conversation and is openly affectionate to Beryl unlike before when the cleric was more reserved.
OOC I need Blair to give me a travel roll!
Sometimes a Nat 1 tells a better story than a Nat 20 ever could.
Silf stretches her arms and gives a tiny yawn. As she sits up and beats her wings to get to her feet, the fairy checks her things over and begins to pace around the camp. “Slept like a baby, thanks!”
“Poor Cal,” she mutters to herself. She continues pacing around the camp while rubbing her eyes, eventually running into Quatt and bouncing back on her rear. “Oh! Excuse me! Sorry, I’m a little clumsy in the morning. How did you sleep, Quatt? Do you live in your shell when you sleep?”
Walks in [insert absurd situation].
Honorary Leader in the Pixie Peewee Powderpuff Pals!
Eron wakes up feeling stiff and a little anxious from his dreams, but after a bowl of porridge and seeing everyone busily about the business of breaking camp and readying to travel he relaxes. “Thank you!” He nods to Cal & Beryl as he finishes his breakfast.
Eron dons his armor, give feed to the animals. At a certain point he draws out his totem and says a little prayer for speed strength and wariness.
As he notices the plate armor so carefully cleaned and reverently loaded into the wagon he tries to recall what he knows about Pelor. He believes he is the God of the sun, but who or what would oppose such a faith...
OOC Eron can make a religion or history check to determine his knowledge of Pelor!
The party travels with haste. An hour passes as they move down the Parchwood Way towards Turst Fields again with an eerie lack of travelers headed southwest towards Westruun! The grasslands stretch far as the eyes can see in either direction allowing a clear view to to horizon! The party then reaches the Parchwood Way/Black Valley triangle, a cross roads, where both roads meet. There they find a shady looking tavern called the Black Flagon and two other shops, a dry goods store and a livery with a sign boasting the fastest delivery of packages north of Emon in a crudely scrawled sign! This area too seems empty but for a flicker of candle light in the front windows of the Black Flagon!
Sometimes a Nat 1 tells a better story than a Nat 20 ever could.